TuPaC!!!! represente niggaz

(Snoop) Up out of there
(Tupac) Chuckles

Ain't nuttin but a gangsta party

(Snoop) Pump that up G
(Tupac) Ahh s**t, you done focked up now

Ain't nuttin but a gangsta party
You done put two of America's
Most wanted in the same
Motherf**kin place at the same
Ain't nuttin but a gangsta party
Motherf**kin time, hahahahah
Y'all nigaaz about to feel this
Ain't nuttin but a gangsta party
Break out the champagne gla*ses
And them motherf**kin condoms
Have one on us aight?
Ain't nuttin but a gangsta party
Picture perfect, I paint a perfect picture
Bomb the hoochies with precision my intention's to get richer
With the S-N double-O-P, Dogg my f**kin homey
Youse a cold a*s ni**a on them hogs

Sho nuff, I keep my hand on my gun, cuz they got me on the run
Now I'm back in the courtroom waitin on the outcome
Free Tupac, is all that's on a ni**az mind
But at the same time it seem they tryin to take mine
So I'ma get smart, and get defensive and s**t
And put together a million march, for some gangsta s**t

So now they got us laced
Two multimillionare motherf**kers catchin cases
bi**hes get ready for the throwdown, the s**t's about to go down
Uhh, me and Snoop about to clown
I'm Losin My Religion, I'm vicious on these stool pigeons
You might be deep in this game, but you got the grooves missin
ni**az be actin like they savage, they out to get the cabbage
I got, nuthin but love, for my nigaaz livin lavish

I got a pit named P, she ni**arino
I got a house out in the hills right next to Chino
And I, think I got a black Beamer
But my dream is to own a fly casino
Like Bugsy Seagel, and do it all legal
And get scooped up, by the little homie in the Regal
Mmm, it feel good to you baby bubba
Ya see, this is for the G's and the keys motherf**ker


Now follow as we ride
Motherf**k the rest, two of the best from the West side
And I can make you famous
ni**az been dying for years, so how could they blame us
I live in fear of a felony
I never stop bailin these, motherf**kin G's
If ya got it better flaunt it, another warrant
2 of Amerikaz Most Wanted

Ain't nuttin but a gangsta party
Ain't nuttin but a gangsta party

Nuthin but a gangsta party
Ain't nuttin but a gangsta party
Nuthin but a gangsta party
It ain't nuthin but a
Motherf**kin gangsta party
Ain't nuttin but a gangsta party
Nuthin but a gangsta party
It ain't nuthin but a
Motherf**kin gangsta party
Ain't nuttin but a gangsta party


Now give me fifty feet
Defeat is not my destiny, release me to the streets
And keep whatever's left of me
Jealousy is misery, suffering is grief
Better be prepared when you try to f**k wit me
I bust a flea, these ni**az must be crazy what??
There ain't no mercy motherf**kers who can fade the Thugs
(hahah right) You thought it was but it wasn't, dissapear
Bow down in the presence of a boss player

It's like cuz, blood, gangbanging
Everybody in the party doing dope slangin
You got to have papers in this world
You might get your first snatch, before your eyes swerl
Ya doing ya job, every day
And then you work so hard till ya hair turn gray
Let me tell you about life, and bout the way it is
You see we live by the gun, so we die by the gun's kids

They tell me not to roll with my glock
So now I gotta throat of rage
Floatin in the black Benz, tryin to do a show a day
They wonder how I live, with five shots
ni**az is hard to kill, on my block
Keep a promise see if you're related
Affiliated with the hustlers, so we made it
No answers to questions, try to get up on it
My ni**a Dogg with me, eternally the most wanted

Intro: Tupac
I ain't got no motherfuckin friends
That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker
(take money) West side!!
Bad Boy killers
(take money) You know the realest is niggaz
(take money) We bring it to you
(take money)

Verse One: Tupac
First off, fuck your bitch in the clit you claim
West side when we ride come equipped with game
You claim to be a player but I fucked your wife
We bust on Bad Boy niggaz fucked for life
Plus Puffy tryin ta see me weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smallz and Junior M.A.F.I.A. some mark ass bitches
We keep on comin' while we runnin for ya jewels
steady gunnin, keep on bustin at the fools, you know the rules
Little Ceaser, go ask ya homie how I leave ya
cut your young ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased
Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's
Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off tha street, so fuck peace
I let them niggas know it's on for life
So let the West side ride tonight hahahah
Bad Boy murdered on wax, and killed
Fuck wit' me and get ya caps peeled, you know ... see ...


Chorus:
Grab ya glocks, when you see Tupac
Call the cops, when you see Tupac, uhh
Who shot me, but ya punks didn't finish
Now ya bout to feel the wrath of a menace
NIGGA, I hit em' up


Interlude: Tupac
Check this out, you muthafuckas know what time it is
I don't even know why I'm on this track
ya'll nigguz ain't even on my level
I'ma let my little homies ride on you
bitch made-ass bad boy bitches -- deal with it!!

Verse Two:
Get out the way yo, get out the way yo
Biggie Smallz just got dropped
Little Moo, pass the Mac, and let me hit him in his back
Frank White need to get spanked right, for settin tracks
little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard-a ya
Poisinous gats attack when I'm servin ya
Spank the shank ya whole style when I dank
Guard your rank, cause I'ma slam you in the pavement
Puffy weaker that a fuckin rocka wanna do, nigga
and, I'll smoke ya junior mafia in front of you, nigga
With the ready power tuckin my Guess under my Eddie Bauer
ya clout, pretty sour I get packages every hour
and hit em up
Verse Three: Tupac
Peep how we do it, keep it real, it's penitentiary steel
this aint no freestyle battle, all you niggaz gettin
killed with ya mouths open
tryin to come up offa me, you in the clouds hoping
smokin dope it's like a sherm high
Niggaz think they learned to fly
But they burned muthafucka, you deserve to die
Talkin bout you gettin money, but its funny to me
All you niggaz living bummy, while you fuckin' wit me
I'm a self made milionare
Thug Livin out a prison, pistols in the air, hahaha
Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on my couch
and beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house, ahh
Now its all about Versacci, you copied my style
Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it, and smiled
Now I'm bout to set the record straight, with my AK
I'm still the thug you love to hate
Motherfucker, I hit em up

Verse Four:
I'm from N-E-W Jerz, where plenty murders occur
No points to be calmer, we bringin drama to all you herbs
Knuckle check the scenario, Little Cease
I bring you fake G's to your knees
Coppin pleas cuz this ain't your area
Lil Kim, is you coked up, or doped up?
Get ya lil Junior Whopper click smoked up, what the fuck
is you STUPID?!?! I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn
with my click lootin, shootin and pollutin ya block
with 15 shots cock glock to your knot
Outlaw mafia click movin up another notch
And you bast stops squaws get mopped and dropped
All your fake-ass east coast props brainstormed and locked


Verse Five:
Youse a, beat biter, a Pac style taker
I'll tell you to ya face you aint shit but a faker
Softer than Alize with a chaser
Bout to get murdered for the paper
Idi Amin approach the scene
Write a caper, like a loc, with little ceaser in a choke hold
Totin smoke, we aint no muthafuckin joke
Thug Life, niggaz betta be knowin, we approchin
in the wide open, guns smokin
no need for hopin its a battle lost, I got across
Soon as the funk was poppin off
Nigga I hit em up


Outro: Tupac
Now you tell me who won
I see them, they run
They don't wanna see us
Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. click dressin up tryin ta be us
How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job
We millionaires, killin ain't fair but somebody gotta do it
Oh yeah, Mobb Deep, you wanna fuck with us?
You little young ass motherfuckers
Don't one of you niggaz got sickle cell or somethin?
You fuckin with me nigga you fuck around
and have a seizure or a heart-attack
You better back the fuck up, fore you get smacked the fuck up
That's how we do it on our side
Any of you niggaz from New York that wanna bring it bring it
But we ain't singin, we bringin drama
Fuck you and your motherfuckin mama
We gonna kill all you motherfuckers
Now when I came out I told you it was just about Biggie
Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfuckin opinion
Well this how we gonna do this
Fuck Mobb Deep
Fuck Biggie
Fuck Bad Boy as a staff record label
and as a motherfuckin crew
And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy
Then fuck you too
Chino XL, fuck you too
All you motherfuckers, fuck you too
(take money)
(take money)
Alla y'all motherfuckers, fuck you die slow motherfucker
My fo'-fo' make sure all y'all kids don't grow
You motherfuckers can't be us or see us
We the motherfuckin Thug Life ridahs West side till we die!
Out here in California we warn ya we'll bomb on you motherfuckers
We do our job
You think you mob, nigga we the motherfuckin mob
Ain't nuttin but killers and the real niggaz
All you motherfuckers feel us
Our shit's going triple and four-quadruple
(take money)
You niggaz blast as our staff got guns at they
motherfuckers back, you know how it is
When we drop records they feel it
You niggaz can't feel it
We the realest, FUCK EM, we Bad Boy killin *echoes*

Depuis la mort de Tupac Shakur en 1996, beaucoup de théories ont été écrites sur les circonstances de sa mort, sur son oeuvre ou sur sa présence encore parmi nous aujourd'hui. Drah Cenedive, un auteur déjà connu pour avoir inspiré le film 'Constantine', suscite la polémique en sortant un livre intitulé '2Pac Lives : The Death of Makaveli / The Resurrection of Tupac Amaru (vol 1)' (2Pac vivant : la mort de Makaveli / la résurrection de Tupac Amaru).